


That Old Time Feeling

by deannastielle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blind Date, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, References to Vietnam War, Singer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deannastielle/pseuds/deannastielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam Winchester plays matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Old Time Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the destielficletchallenge August 2014. Prompt: "Person A and Person B are set up on a blind date."
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural belong to their creators and not to me. The title is a reference to the song by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash.

1977

I

                Sam waited until they’d parked the car before he told Dean anything about the guy.

                “His name’s Cas,” he said, ignoring the sudden nervous panic on his brother’s face, “He’s twenty-two, non-smoker – “               

                “You are having way too much fun with this,” said Dean, running his hands through his hair again and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.  _Breathe,_ he reminded himself.

                “Black hair, maybe six feet tall, and he’ll be wearing a blue tie.”

                “Oh, well, thanks for being so specific.”

                “Well, I’m sure one of you will find the other,” Sam suggested, smiling like it was no big deal if his brother had to give every customer the once-over in order to achieve this.

                “How’d you meet this guy anyway?”

                “He’s a friend of a friend.  Brother of a friend, actually.  Have I ever mentioned Hannah Novak?  Well, she’s studying Law, and one night we started talking about … setting you guys up.”

                “Seriously?”  Dean was pretty sure two people didn’t just sit down and arrange a blind date for their brothers, and he knew better than to fall for Sam’s innocent-puppy look.  Sam had probably said something like,

_“My brother likes guys but he’s too goddamn nervous to get a date with one.  Any suggestions?”_

                He looked up from his knees to ask if there was anything else he should know about Cas, and caught Sam checking his watch.

                “Okay, I’m going,” said Dean.

                “Have fun!  Just… be yourself, you’ll do great.”

                “Yeah, whatever,” said Dean, closing the car door and taking another deep breath on the sidewalk.  It was true, nice guys made him nervous as hell.  For some reason, he found it easier to flirt with girls.  Who knew, maybe a blind date would help him get over that.

 

II

                Dean didn’t think his brother’s description was up to much, but it didn’t take him long to find Cas.  Almost as soon as he stepped inside the pizza place with his hands jammed in the pockets of his brown leather jacket, someone got to their feet near the back of the restaurant - someone with black hair and a blue tie.  The tie was part of a suit, which made Dean feel underdressed in his t-shirt and jeans, but the guy wearing it was smiling nervously at him, and to be honest the smell of Italian food was weirdly comforting. 

                Dean reached the table after what felt like an embarrassingly long walk and said, “Cas?”  The other man nodded and put out a hand for Dean to shake.  The contact made Dean’s knees feel a little weak, or maybe that was the fact that he accidentally gazed into Cas’ blue eyes while they shook hands.

                “It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

                “It’s nice to meet you too.”

                Relieved that he hadn’t tripped over someone’s chair on the way over, Dean sat down, picked up his menu and somehow managed to drop it on the floor almost instantly.

                “Woops,” he muttered, smiling awkwardly at Cas when he’d retrieved it.  Cas looked like he didn’t know quite what to say.  He also looked great in a suit – the blue tie really brought out his eyes.  Dean wondered if a toned-down version of that thought would lead in well to the conversation.

                “I like – uh… what you’re…You look nice,” he said, and was delighted when Cas gave a shy smile.

               “Thank you, Dean.  You look very nice too,” said Cas, and Dean looked at the menu until his heartbeat became a little more regular.

 

                When the waitress took their orders and left them alone with no more excuses to make small talk, it looked like it was going to be up to Dean to ask the questions.  He decided to start with the basics.

                “So, are you in college?”

                Cas shook his head.  “No.  My family want me to train as a teacher, but I’ve been putting it off for a couple of years.”

                 Dean couldn’t help feeling a little relieved that his date, despite owning a suit, wasn’t totally out of his league.  “What do you wanna do?”

                “I guess I’d like to be a musician,” said Cas.  Dean must have looked as impressed as he felt because Cas smiled and asked, “Do you like music?”

                “I love music,” said Dean, pleased that the conversation had taken this turn.

                “What kind of music do you like?”

                “Uh… rock, mainly.  Led Zeppelin are my favourite but I’m pretty into AC/DC right now – have you heard of them?” 

                “I’m sorry, I don’t listen to popular music.”

                “Oh well,” Dean continued, trying not to look too disappointed.  He decided to forget the fact that Cas had just referred to rock as popular music.  “What kind of music do you like?”

There was obvious pride in Cas’ eyes as he replied, “Gospel.”

                Dean took a deep breath and tried to figure out if Cas was kidding or not.  If he was, there was no sign of it. 

                “I also like… country music,” said Cas after a minute of mutual confused staring.  “I’m very fond of The Carter Family.”

                “Oh,” said Dean, “My brother likes country music.”

                Their waitress returned with one pizza and fries, one burger and salad, and Dean was grateful for the interruption.

 

                So, Cas was gorgeous, but he had weird taste in music.  On the plus side, the pizza was great.  Dean decided to try another question.

                “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

                “I have two sisters and… four brothers,” said Cas, then paused for a long time.  Dean wondered if he was counting in his head to make sure he’d got the two and four bit right.

                “Big family.  It’s just me and Sammy,” he volunteered when the silence started getting awkward, “And my sister, Jo, but she’s my – my aunt’s daughter.”  He noted Cas’ frown and regretted his last few words.

                “See, I call Ellen my aunt but uh… she’s … she sort of married – I mean, this is confusing.  Basically … my – my mom passed away when Sammy was a baby.  Then my dad went off to war, got killed in action, and my uncle Bobby’s been looking after us ever since.  He and Ellen got married a few years back.”  He forced a smile.  “Long story, right?”

                “I’m so sorry, Dean,” said Cas.

                “Nah, it is what it is.  So, uh - ” Dean took a drink of soda and tried desperately to think up a new topic.

                “I mean about your father,” Cas continued, “Was he in Vietnam?”

                Dean coughed as his drink went down the wrong way.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he was.”  Great, now they were talking about John.

                “I’m sure he was a hero,” said Cas, with a sympathetic look.

                Dean opened his mouth to respond and realised he didn’t know what to say.  He’d thought his dad was a hero once.  It was only lately, after years of living with Bobby, then with Ellen and Jo as a family unit, that he’d realised John had taken piss-poor care of his sons.  Volunteering to go off to war in a foreign country and leaving them with a family friend was one thing, but Dean couldn’t remember one time between burying his mother and saluting his father goodbye that John had ever shown them real affection.  His favourite childhood memories were of stuff like Bobby taking them to play baseball on weekends, supervising their baking experiments, grumbling about the movies they watched as they crowded around the television set with popcorn and liquorice.  Dean was pretty sure it hadn’t been all that easy to bring up two kids someone left behind.  If anyone was his hero, it was Bobby.

                “Yeah,” he said, because he didn’t feel like sharing all of that with Cas, and he wasn’t sure if this date was going so well anymore.  “Well, here’s hoping we don’t have another war any time soon.”  He lifted his glass and finished it off while Cas scrutinized him.  Jesus Christ, was it warm or was it just him?

                “Sometimes I wish we still had that one,” said Cas, smiling sadly. 

                “What?  Why?”

                “So I could fight,” said Cas, shrugging.  “I was just eligible when it all ended.  Don’t you feel that way?”

                Dean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.  “No.  Cas, the war was wrong.”           

                “You’re saying America was wrong?”

                “Yeah.  Everybody knows that.  The protests?  What was happening over there?  The government sent kids off to slaughter the Vietnamese, and they all came home in boxes.”

                “They were heroes,” said Cas, looking furious.           

                Dean was now pretty sure the date was going badly, but something in him wouldn’t let go of the argument.

                “You care more about the government than the people who live in it?  The soldiers?  Their loved ones?   I mean, the people have to look out for the people.”

                Cas clenched his jaw and shook his head before responding.

                “You’re wrong, Dean,” he said, and each word was clipped and furious.   “Some things are bigger than all of us.”

                “No, I don’t believe that,” said Dean, “People’s lives are more important than anything.  You know what, I don’t think this is gonna work out, so – I’m just gonna pay for mine and go.”

                As mad as he was, both at Cas for his dumb-ass views and at himself for fucking the date up so badly, he almost changed his mind when he saw his date’s expression.  For most of the evening, the guy hadn’t done much more than stare, but now that the anger was gone, he looked almost disappointed, his blue eyes wide like he was just realising how badly this had turned out.

                Maybe if he’d apologised, Dean would have done the same and stayed.  What Cas actually said was “Goodbye, Dean.”

                As Dean lifted his jacket, handed the waitress some cash and walked out of the pizza place into the street, he could still hear Cas’ voice saying “Dean” – the guy had called him by name so many damn times – and the way he’d felt when their hands met – but it was over with anyway.  There was no way, Dean decided, turning a corner on his long walk home, that he was ever letting Sam set him up again.  In fact, he wanted a profile of a person’s political and religious beliefs, not to mention their music taste, before he’d even consider agreeing to a date.

 

III

                Dean didn’t get a profile of his dates in the years that followed, but he asked them all out himself, or was asked out by them personally.  Most of them were female, because that was always easier, and he was better at saying the right things.  Then, in 1982, he met Layla Rourke and was out of the dating game for good.  Layla was special, and for some reason she thought Dean was special too.  He felt like he could tell her anything.  It took a long time to trust her enough, but eventually he even told her he was bi – she said “Dean, I love you, and I know you love me, and I also know you like Captain Kirk.  It’s okay.”  They muddled through the years in their own way; their apartment was small but she made it comfortable, and all their friends always said they wished they lived somewhere as nice as Dean and Layla’s place.

                Five years of a life he felt was really worth living, and Dean thought he could take that forever.  He got used to cooking for two, cuddling up on the couch to watch the news every night, going on long car journeys to Bobby and Ellen’s place with mix tapes of their favourite songs turned up loud.  When Layla became ill, and Dean realised that he was about to lose everything, he realised how lucky he’d been and regretted taking their life together for granted.  In her last few days, she said she’d been happy.  That kept him going in the dark days that followed.

 

                Years later, when Dean and Jess – Sam’s wife – were sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for Sam and gossiping about some celebrity couple, she said something that made him think.

               “You know, Dean, I think you’ve got another soul mate out there, somewhere.”

                “Soul mate,” Dean teased her.  Jess shook her head.

                “I’m serious.”

                Dean would have made a more sarcastic reply if Sam hadn’t interrupted them, but he didn’t forget what Jess said.  Sometimes, when he was moping around the apartment by himself, or lying alone in bed, he wondered if there could be more to life again than one night stands. 

 

IV

 

                One evening in July of 1988, with a summer heat outside, Dean took the radio into the garden and set up a barbecue at Bobby and Ellen’s house.  It was the last fifteen or so minutes of the country music show, but there wasn’t much point changing station when the rock section was next.  Besides, the presenter was a friend of his, and that way Dean could pretend he’d actually listened to one of the shows.

                “So,” said Garth Fitzgerald’s voice, “New album.  This is the first in quite a while, and I have to say it’s pretty damn good.”

                “Thank you,” said this sexy, gravelly voice.  Dean almost dropped the fork.  God, if the guy’s singing sounded anywhere near that good, maybe Dean could get into country after all.

                “Do you mind if I ask why you took such a long break from recording?”

                “Not at all,” said the voice, “To be honest, I think most of my fans know at this stage about the problems I was having with – with prescription drugs, so I’d just like to address that briefly on your show – “

                “Go right ahead.”

                Dean could picture Garth’s delight at getting the exclusive scoop on this guy’s drug habit.

               

                “I grew up in a very controlling environment.  From my family’s point of view, listening to country music was no better than worshipping the devil.”  Dean chucked.  The guy was funny too – that was a bonus.  “When I decided that this was what I wanted to do with my life, I moved away from home, started being … myself.  I wrote songs that were… not about Jesus…not about getting into Heaven.  Then I took it too far, I did things I now regret, I was in no fit state to continue with my career and I needed to take some time to get better.”

                “Wow,” said Garth, “Thank you, Cas.”

               

                Cas.  Cas Novak.  _Holy –_ The guy’s rise to modest fame hadn’t escaped Dean’s notice, but after the drugs raid fiasco a few years back, and everything that had happened in his own life, he hadn’t spared Cas a thought in a long while.

 

                “That’s very honest, and I think I can say on behalf of all your fans that we’re very pleased that you’re back on your feet.  The new album is fantastic.  There are a couple of duets with Miss Charlie Bradbury – it’s very exciting to see the two of you collaborating again. “

                “I enjoy working with Charlie very much.”

                “And the song that you’re going to perform for us now is more along the lines of _Free Will and Fallen Angels_ than your last couple of albums.  Is that kind of social commentary something that matters a lot to you?”

                “Yes, well, I know that’s something both Charlie and I are interested in doing with our music,” said Cas, “And _Gabriel_ in particular is an anti-war song.”

 

                Well, someone had certainly changed their tune, thought Dean.

 

                “Why _Gabriel_?  Is that a dedication to somebody?”

                “Yes.  My brother, Gabriel, was two years older than me.  He went to Vietnam in 1974, and he died there.  I lost three brothers in the war but he was the one I was closest to… the one I miss most.”

                There was a silence.

 

                Dean remembered 1974.  He spent the first part of it waiting on a letter from his sort-of-boyfriend.  Benny Lafitte was a chef at the fast food place where Dean worked, who saved up his wages to buy his own boat, laughed at Dean’s bad jokes and one night called Dean back after they’d said goodbye and kissed him until he felt weak.  There wasn’t enough time between that kiss and their last, the night before Benny went to war.  He didn’t come home.

 

                By the time he’d collected himself and wiped away the tears, the radio interview was over.  Cas was singing live, but Dean wasn’t so interested in country music after all, because it still sounded goddamn awful.  He felt awful too; he’d thought Cas was crazy the first time they’d met, but he couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose one brother, never mind three.  And people changed.  Maybe if they’d met later in life, it could have worked out differently.

 

V

                Sam Winchester went on a lot of business trips, most of which, Dean suspected, involved sitting around sipping margaritas in the sun.  He drove out to the airport one night in 1990 to pick his brother up from his latest trip to California.  The traffic wasn’t as heavy as he’d expected, which meant he had some extra time in the airport before Sam’s flight got in.  It wasn’t ideal, but as long as no-one was forcing him to get on a plane, Dean figured he’d get some coffee and browse the duty free goods.

                He bought a cup of filter coffee at the café and was looking around for somewhere to sit when suddenly a voice called his name.

                Dean turned to see a man looking straight at him with a surprised smile, tilting a hat back from his face.  It was Cas Novak.  Dean recognised him from the record covers and the few times he’d been at Garth’s place and suffered through live broadcasts from the Grand Ole Opry.  It still felt surreal to see him, after so many years, in an airport café with Dean once again in his casual clothes and Cas in a blue tie with his white shirt and trousers.

                “Hey,” said Dean, approaching the table with a nervous grin, “Long time no see.”

                “Yeah,” said Cas.  He was friendlier this time around, shaking Dean’s hand with confidence and returning his grin.  “Dean Winchester.  Are you in a rush?”

                “No,” said Dean honestly, “I just got here a bit early, I’m picking my brother up from a flight.”

                “How is Sam?  Please, sit down.”

                They sat down around the small table and Dean said, “He’s great actually.”

                “I hear he’s married now.”

                “Yep.  She’s great too.  I - uh – I hear you’re famous now.”

                Cas laughed in a way that was completely and unexpectedly adorable.  “Yeah, well, I’ve put out a few records.  Mostly country music; I know you’re not too fond of it.”                       

                “Oh, God,” said Dean, “I knew that date would come back to haunt me.”

                “Yes, and here I am,” Cas joked.  He was leaning forward with his arms folded on the table, and Dean had to resist the urge to lean towards him.  “Seriously, Dean, how have you been?  Hannah’s told me some things; I gather Sam talks about you quite a lot.  I… I know that your wife passed away a few years ago, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

                Dean looked at his coffee and said, “Thanks.  That means a lot.”

                “Are you coping well?”

                Dean glanced up in surprise and thought about it.  They might have both changed in different ways over the years, but Cas could still ask some awkward questions.  “I guess so.  I mean, I wasn’t – just after Layla passed, I guess I wasn’t coping very well but – I’m doing better now.”  Cas smiled.  “What about you?  You settled down yet?”

                “No,” said Cas.  For a moment they sipped their coffees and watched the people filter by with their luggage.

                “Hey, uh – you know that date we had back in the seventies?” said Dean, feeling that it was now or never.

                “That makes me feel old,” said Cas, and Dean noticed that his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled. 

                “Well,” Dean continued, trying to focus on his coffee and not Cas’ eyes, “I’m sorry I walked out.  I had really strong opinions and I was kind of an asshole.  You know, in general.”

                Cas shook his head, “No.  Dean.  At the time, I was upset that it went so badly between us - but it was my fault too.  I guess my opinions were equally strong and well, as they say, we were young.”  He turned suddenly and Dean looked to see a woman with dark brown hair and red lipstick saunter towards them.  

                “I could get used to spending your money,” she told Cas with a smirk and a gesture towards the three shopping bags on her arm.

                “I said get something for Naomi,” said Cas, looking exasperated but a little bit amused.

                “I got her something.  Marijuana, maybe it’ll loosen the old bitch up,” said the woman with a short laugh.

                “You’re very funny and very expensive.”

                “Like you haven’t been doing some shopping,” said the woman, nudging him with her elbow and looking Dean over in a way that made him feel mildly uncomfortable.

                “I’d like to spend another five minutes with my coffee.”

                “With your coffee, right.  Okay, I’ll come back before your flight leaves.  Have fun, boys.” 

                When she was gone, Cas said, “Meg’s looking forward to trashing my apartment while I’m gone.”  Dean raised his eyebrows.

                “Are you two – “

                “No, we’re old friends,” said Cas, then leaned in and said in a confidential whisper, “I’m still gay, Dean.”  Dean felt his face heating up, and mumbled something even he couldn’t decipher, ending in a nervous laugh, as Cas grinned.

                “So you’re not… not seeing anyone?” Dean asked, trying to be casual and also not spill his coffee.  Cas looked surprised as he leaned back out of Dean’s space.  Then he said, in the low voice that sounded just as good, if not better, in real life as it had over the radio in 1988,

                “No, I’m not seeing anyone.  Are you?”

                Dean shook his head, staring back as Cas studied his face.  He felt like he was in his early twenties again, looking into Cas’ blue eyes at the pizza place back home.  It was weird how comfortable he felt now.

                “Maybe some time when you’re in town we could – Jesus Christ!” said Dean, as someone clapped him on the shoulder.  He’d been so busy being nervous that he’d forgotten to watch out for Sam.

                “Hey,” said his brother, then noticed Cas and looked surprised.  “Hi!  Wow, I didn’t expect – ” He looked between the two men.  “Are you – What’s – “

                “It’s good to see you, Sam,” said Cas with a genuine smile.  He got to his feet and shook Sam’s hand.

                “Yeah, good to see you,” said Sam, still a little dazed.  Cas turned to Dean and said, “Would you … look after my coffee for a second?  I need to find Meg.”

                Dean glanced at the almost-empty mug of coffee on the table and said, “Yeah, sure.”

 

                When Cas returned five minutes later, Dean was sulking over his coffee and ignoring the self-satisfied look on Sam’s face.

                “Hey,” said Cas.

                “Hey,” said Dean.

                Cas glanced between the brothers and said, “Dean, I – I gave Meg my ticket.  I think she’s pretty excited, she doesn’t get to travel much.”

                Dean stared, trying to work out what Cas was saying.              

                “Maybe this is crazy but… I’d like to have dinner, with you.  Although I should warn you that I still like gospel music.”               

                “I still like Led Zeppelin,” Dean offered, completely thrown.

                “We don’t have to listen to music in the car,” said Cas.

                “I’m cool with that,” said Dean, staring at Cas again.  “I guess this is our second date.”

                “I guess so,” said Cas, smiling.

                Sam cleared his throat.  “Okay well,” he said, “I’m going to get a cab.  It was nice to see you, Cas, and I hope you guys have a good time.” 

                “Thank you, Sam,” said Cas, glancing at Dean.

                “Yeah, thanks, Sammy.”

                Sam nodded, then picked up his suitcase and went in search of a cab, leaving Dean and Cas alone together.  It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Sam looked extremely pleased with himself, but all he could really think, with Cas standing there with his shy smile and blue eyes, was that if this date went well, he wasn’t waiting another twenty years for the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it ^^


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